


The Fear

by ZaliaChimera



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Everyone is the traitor, Friendship, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, POV Female Character, Threats, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s what it comes down to, in the end. The all consuming fear. Spoilers for S2M39</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear

Maggie changes quick, a few breaths and those breaths are spent screaming.

 

That many zoms, that many bites, and Jody's not surprised. It doesn't make it any less awful to watch. She can practically see the moment it happens, when the awareness, the _life_ vanishes, and Maggie becomes another corpse. She lets out a hideous groan.

 

Jody runs.

 

The trouble is Maggie does too, in an uneven gait, one of those zoms that's still working on muscle memory and adrenaline, and Maggie had been a Runner to the end.

 

If she weren't so desperate to survive, Jody is pretty sure she'd throw up.

 

But no. She's going to live. She's going to live!

 

The terrain levels out up ahead. Easier to run, impossible to hide or shake them and she can hear Maggie's groans from behind her. She fights the urge to look back. It's not her friend anymore. It's not Maggie.

 

She hops up a stile, runs gingerly along the wall for a few metres before dropping back down into the next field. It doesn't slow them for long, just until they find the next gate, but it buys her a few crucial seconds, a few metres.

 

The ground is uneven, treacherous beneath her feet, and slippery with mud. Some of the zoms fall but they don't care about torn muscles and ligaments and broken ankles. They're gaining on her.

 

She's going to _die_.

 

Something moves on the road up ahead at the other side of the field, and god, this is it, isn't it? She's snapped, gone absolutely nuts because there's no way that a truck's just pulled up. No way there's people jumping out, guns raised.

 

One of them at the front gestures something; to get down she thinks. She hopes so, because she does just that. Throws herself down on the ground in the mus while the zoms come after her and if she's wrong, if she is crazy...

 

Gunfire fills the air, louder than you get in films and then, then it goes dead silent.

 

Oh god, she's dead. She's-

 

Nothing.

 

There's footsteps, but from in front, all casual-like. Not a zombie.

 

“I believe that you can get up now.”

 

She looks up and up, from shiny shoes to the offered hand to the piercing grey eyes. “Uh...”

 

“It is quite safe, I assure you. They're dead. More dead anyway.”

 

She hesitates for a moment and then reaches up to take his hand. It's firm and cool around hers and he's strong when he helps her up. She glances over her shoulder at the fallen zoms. A couple of them are still groaning, unable to move far. Maggie's on the ground, still a new enough zom to bleed, not that you can really tell when it's seeping into the ground like that.

 

“I think it would be best if you didn't look too closely,” the man says warmly as he guides her away with a hand at the small of her back. It's a friendly touch, a paternal touch and it's way more reassuring than she cares to admit.

 

“That was my friend,” Jody says, and she wants to look again, like it won't be real if she does.

 

“Ah. My condolences,” he says. Maybe he doesn't sound all that sympathetic. She's too numb to pay much attention.

 

The people with guns take up position nearby, watching the road and the fields and it's like all the adrenaline runs out of her, leaving her legs weak and her head pounding. Her headset is silent. Not even a static crackle.

 

He offers her a bottle of water. She's desperately thirsty but still pauses before she takes it. Water's a commodity these days, difficult enough to clean that it's rationed, and bottled stuff like this is gold dust. “I don't have anything to trade,” she says.

 

He waves it off. “Call this a gift. You look like you need it.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” she says and ducks her head as she opens it. The seal's still unbroken anyway, so she takes a swig, then another, and it is lukewarm and perfect. “Who are you anyway?” she asks finally, looking back up at him. People with trucks and private armies don't just show up randomly to save people. Anyone who'd been rich enough for that stuff probably doesn't need to ever leave whatever compound they're living in.

 

“My name is Professor Van Ark,” the man says, and isn't that a bit formal?

 

“Jody Marsh,” she says awkwardly because that sounds so awfully grand and it always feels weird to be offering pleasantries like this these days. “Nice to meet you.” They'll be talking about the weather next.

 

“I do admire you runners,” Van ark says. “Risking your lives every day, pushing your bodies to the limit and for so little reward.”

 

Jody hunches up slightly, sipping her water. “We keep the town going,” she says defensively. “It's important.”

 

“And what do you get in return?” Van Ark asks, his gaze curiously intense. “Sent out to risk your life once again, like your friend there.”

 

She winces at that, ducking her head to avoid looking at him. “A home,” she says. “A community. They take care of us. They're my friends.” She meets his eyes again for a scant moment before she has to look away.

 

“But what if you are not theirs?” he replies bluntly.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jody asks, trying to be subtle in the way she looks around, searching for some gap in the perimeter of armed guards that now seems more like a trap than a rescue.

 

“Please, I have no desire to hurt you,” Van Ark says. He sounds amused. Makes Jody want to punch him if she didn't think she'd do more damage to her hand than to him. “Quite the opposite in fact. I want to help you.”

 

“What is this about?” Jody asks, her voice strained and closer to panic than she ever liked to show. She'd just never been good at hiding it. “I don't understand. I just want to get home.”

 

“That is my desire too,” Van Ark replies. “To see you home at Abel again. I merely wish to discuss a few matters with you. Besides,” he says, smiling like an eel, “Abel is hardly in a fit state at the moment. It would be terrible if you were to get hurt.”

 

It's the way that he says it that scares her, like he knows exactly what's happened, like he's involved somehow. But it had just been a zombie attack, right? Then the comms had gone dead and there'd been nothing.

 

She sucks in a sharp breath, takes a step back, but there's nowhere to go. Surrounded on all sides and she's pretty sure she can't outrun a bullet. Maybe she should've taken her chances with the zoms.

 

“Please, don't try to run,” he says, and he sounds so fucking reasonable. “The countryside is swarming with the undead. Ah, but that's an everyday fear for you Runners, is it not? And you are so very afraid. Don't you resent it? Sent out alone and powerless while those who claim to lead stay safe behind their walls.”

 

He leans in close. Jody's pulse starts to race.

 

“I can make that fear go away.”

 

Her heart seems to stop.

 

“What?”

 

His smile widens, an unpleasant expression, but she's listening now, he knows she is. He steps away, gives her space, but he's still watching her, reading her.

 

“With my help, my research, I could ensure that you never needed to worry about zombies, or sickness or even death ever again.”

 

God, she can hardly breathe at the prospect. She's always been a scary-cat, like her mum had called her. Scared of unemployment mainly before the apocalypse, or dying alone and lonely. And now there's a thousand more things that keep her awake at night. She's seen so many of her friends go grey.

 

It's too good to be true, and yet...

 

“How?” she manages to get out, her voice thin and scared.

 

“I have already overcome the Grey plague.” Shock courses through her. He catches it, of course he does, and that smile is still there, far too knowing, and she can't look away. She's a rabbit in oncoming headlights. “Didn't they tell you that?” he continues. “Of course not. Why would they when they can control you with fear? But it's more than that. With a little more research, well...”

 

The silence drags out thickly until she can't stand it anymore. “Well what? Tell me or I'll just go.”

 

She won't leave. She can't leave now. Hook line and sinker and she can't bring herself to wriggle free.

 

He inclines his head. “With the right equipment and a little more time there could be a cure for death itself. No more injury or disease, Jody. The plague would be irrelevant. The world could rebuild.”

 

Is this what drowning feels like?

 

“This is where you come in, if you are amenable.”

 

She swallows around the lump in her throat. Of course it comes to this. Nothing's free. She'd known that even before the apocalypse. “I'm not a scientist or anything. I don't see how I can help.”

 

“It's nothing terrible,” he says dismissively. “A little information here and there.”

 

“You want me to spy on my friends?” she asks, appalled by the idea. They're her community, her friends. She can't just turn on them.

 

“Are they really your friends? Oh, I have utmost respect for you runners. Your dedication, your capabilities are quite admirable. I wouldn't ask you to hurt them. But The Major? Janine de Luca? Have they ever been honest with you?”

 

She opens her mouth to reply, then closes it, chewing pensively on her bottom lip. There's been times, like that one with the running zombies, where she's sure that Janine and Eight have known stuff, stuff that they're keeping from them. And it had been her neck on the line then too. It's not like her and Three haven't stayed awake some nights, talking about it, why a farmhouse needs a bunker, why the Major chose them and not New Canton. All those 'whys'.

 

“You're an intelligent woman,” he says, but it's more like background noise now, like he's just a voice in her head. “What price to save the world? What price to save your _friends_?”

 

And like that, she knows she's lost. She's not that good a person. No-one is.

 

“You just want information?” she asks, glancing up at him, gazing skittishly around.

 

“Yes. Here and there. I may ask for specific things, but nothing beyond your capabilities.”

 

“And you're not gonna hurt them? Simon and Sam and the other runners.”

 

“With a life as dangerous as you live, I hardly see the point in wasting resources on chasing down a few individuals. However, nor can I guarantee their safety. Not yet at least.”

 

Jody is silent for a few moments, gaze downcast, looking at the churned mud at the side of the road and the places where cracks have appeared in the tarmac and not been fixed. It's all going to hell, and every day is one that makes it more difficult to think of rebuilding and recovering. She's just so tired, so sick of being afraid.

 

“I'll do it,” she says quietly

 

\----------

 

“Hey there Clover.”

 

She looks up from the bare bunk at him and feels her stomach sink. “What're you doing here Simon?” she asks. “I though I wasn't supposed to have any contact besides whoever's bringing me food and the people who want to talk to me.”

 

Simon shrugs, leaning against the bars of the, well, there's no other word for it besides dungeon, although they've given her a blanket at least. She's surprised they hadn't just made her sleep on the stone floor. “I persuaded Janine to let me come over to see you.”

 

“And she let you?” Jody asks incredulously, not believing it for a second.

 

“Hey, for all her bluster, she does know what friendship means,” he says, a tone of rebuke in his voice. “She's not heartless.”

 

“Could've fooled me,” she mutters and she knows it's unfair.

 

“Coming from you-” Simon begins and then cuts himself off. She swears she can hear his teeth click together, and he looks away, all stubbornness and hurt and god she misses him.

 

“Coming from me when I was gonna kill you all,” she finishes for him because hearing it from him would be too much.

 

“I don't believe you would've, Jody,” he says, looking up again, meeting her eyes. “You- I don't believe you've got it in you.”

 

“I had the poison,” she says, “I could've.”

“But you ran,” Simon says. “You ran instead of that.”

 

“I got Archie killed!”

 

It sinks into silence, his knuckles white wrapped around the bars, her heart hammering in her ears.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally, and his voice sounds very distant. “You did. She was my friend.”

 

She'd been nice, Archie. Bright and happy and she'd kind of made you believe that anything was possible. And Jody had got her killed. And she's not sorry. She- she can't be sorry.

 

She draws her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and she's just tired, sore eyes. That's all.

 

Simon is still silent, head bowed and pressed against the bars. He looks tired. She hadn't noticed that before, dark circles like he's not been sleeping. She feels a little sick. Good job Runner Four.

 

“Why did you do it, Jody?” he asks finally, his voice strained and hoarse, the cracks obvious. No joke to lighten this conversation. He looks up, meeting her gaze, and he's always had such warm eyes, expressive. He wears his heart on his sleeve. She loves that about him. “Abel's your home, we're your friends, your- your _family_.”

 

She could lie. Say he promised her marvellous things, say she'd always been working for Van Ark, make him _hate_ her. But what's the point? She drags in a breath that burns in her lungs.

 

“I'm so tired of being afraid.”

 

“And you think Van Ark would stop that?” Simon asks harshly. “We're all scared. All the time Jody.”

 

“He said he could stop it. He said he could... could make sure I'd never have to worry. Never have to die.”

 

He jerks suddenly like he's been punched, a weird expression crossing his face for a moment, like fear and jealousy and horror all mixed up together. It's gone a moment later, just traces lingering around his eyes and in the bitter twist of his lips.

 

“Immortality,” he murmurs then looks away, giving a derisive snort. “Well he's dead, Jody,” he says harshly. “Dead and gone. Five shot him down. Saw the body myself. He's _dead_. So much for immortality.”

 

“He- he can't-” Her eyes are wider, shocked because he- he'd been immortal. She knew what Five had done, cut his throat, and he'd come back. He hadn't died!

 

“It's over,” Simon says, and she hates the hardness of his voice. “And I don't know what's gonna happen to you. It's over, Jody.”

 

Maybe she's just been repressing, or maybe it hadn't hit until then, but it hits her now like a sledgehammer, all the air knocked out of her, throat tight. Can't get out any words, can't defend herself even if there was anything to defend.

 

“Simon,” she manages, a shade short of tears.

 

“I can't help you, Clover,” he says, stricken. “I'm sorry.”

 

And then she does cry, thick heaving sobs, for herself, for Archie and Sara and Seventeen and everyone. Everyone.

 

And he stays. He does stay. Until she lies down, curls up ready to die and falls into horrible black dreamless sleep.


End file.
